


i feel like climbing mt. fuji

by lovelycherryblondelocks



Series: we are but a smidgen in a sea of canvases [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Established Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Fluff, M/M, Sick Character, Slow Burn, Yamaguchi Tadashi-centric, the dying kids club
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:46:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27491416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelycherryblondelocks/pseuds/lovelycherryblondelocks
Summary: This is not the story of how Yamaguchi Tadashi died.This is the story of how he learned to live.Or, Tadashi is part of the dying kids club and has nothing better to do in his life than to count how much he has left. Yuuji is a volatile teenager with too much trouble in his hands and a penchant for juvenile misdemeanours.Their paths cross when Yuuji crashes his father's favourite car and ends up sentencing himself to three month's worth of volunteer work for a support group.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou & Kageyama Tobio & Tsukishima Kei & Yamaguchi Tadashi, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Terushima Yuuji/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Series: we are but a smidgen in a sea of canvases [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2007607
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	1. yamaguchi tadashi is a nobody

**Author's Note:**

> to whoever stumbled upon this fic, i hope you are doing well :>
> 
> this story has vague descriptions of the sicknesses and is focused more on tadashi's commentary on death, life and other musings. for this particular setting, support groups allow volunteers to visit hospitals. there's not much to say about the boys' condition except that they're very, very ill. 
> 
> bearing this in mind, i wish you a good read <3 (and forgive me for any overlooked errors)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A thumb traces a circle on his knuckles. "Are you?"
> 
> Tadashi regards the boy with puzzlement. "Am I what?"
> 
> "Are you one for dreams?"
> 
> "No." Tadashi answers automatically. "Not really."

Death, for humans, is both the easiest and hardest to deal with. Easiest, because they've seen it enough times to know what to do the next time it happens. Hardest, because they've seen it enough times to know what type of ache it brings them.

Death, they say, is a painful reprieve. Some find it a liberation, others a miserable reminder of impermanence, an allusion to the existence of whatever god lives up there, and Tadashi – he simply thinks of it as it is. You cease to exist. Your body rots and turns to soil. And you become nothing but thin air for life to breathe in and taunt the living to dare. Death is death. Tadashi believes there is not a need to make a speech about its exceptionality when it's nowhere near one.

Because Death, for Tadashi, is just as normal as living.

Death, for Tadashi, is just a typical morning –where you lay an immobile lump of nothingness with only the thin embrace of hospital gown on you, two or three wires about a centimetre wide stuck to your veins, and a noise, buzzing and piercing, glued to your left.

Maybe Sugawara-san will wipe your sweat-filled temple with a towel as he smiles at you, sympathetic. Or Yaku-san will offer you a bucket to spill your guts out, soothing whatever remains are left in your empty stomach to spill tomorrow. Death is having doctors sigh at you in worry and furrow their brows as they read your wilting data that may just be as common as a calendar, mumbling routinely about jargons that signal you closer and closer to your deadline.

Your parents listen on, of course, heavy with dread that has your mother sobbing in the dingy bathroom of your _other_ home – the one filled with stacks of white and green blankets and little to no posters of the usual teenage angst, just a cabinet full of cardigans for the day your bones shrivel – and your father clenching helplessly on a pile of hospital bills you're yet to pay yourself.

You don't heed to any of their calls because you're too deep in sedation to fully understand the gloom in their heads as they stare at you. Because you might as well be dead every morning.

See? _Just like living._

But sometimes people force him to believe Death is something more. That death is a tragedy for Tadashi because he should never have been near it. That death should be a myth for kids with parents who do not want to suffer a smaller casket on their shoulders.

Sometimes, people really make a big deal out of Death that Tadashi begins to hate it too. Even when he's long promised himself to be indifferent about it.

_'You are a brave child. You don't deserve this.'_

_'Such a kind soul shouldn't have to suffer.'_

_'You're too young for this.'_

They pity him because they think it's what he needs. They pity him as if they _know_ him, as if they understand he's hurting when really, Tadashi doesn't give a fraction of his shit to whatever sentimental preachings they have to ramble about.

Tadashi _just_ hates it. He hates being called the sick kid or the dying kid. He hates only being known for that. A part of Tadashi can't blame them though. Not when even Tadashi thinks there's not much to him without the sickness.

Take away the rot, and you're left with a blank canvas. Without the threat of death, Yamaguchi Tadashi is a nobody.

"Or he could be anybody."

Tadashi glances to his right. Sugawara-san, the incredibly astute, much respected, professional thought-interrupter, smiles at him a sly, unassuming smile. He sparkles like a typical sunrise would, always fresh and equipped with the sixth sense for sour musings.

"Ah yes, we can't rule out that scant possibility." Tadashi rolls his eye out of habit. It's the default greeting he has for the older. Partly baffled, mostly devious. Like an endearment of sorts to name the casual fondness he has for the other.

Sugawara-san never fails to answer to the banter's invitation. His tongue clicks, face feigning exasperation. "I keep telling you, the day's too lovely for a sullen welcome." He pinches Tadashi's nose, a touch too cold to eschew all glum ponderings away. "Wipe that ugly scrunch off your face, kiddo."

"I just got back from the dead and you're already expecting too much from me." Tadashi wriggles his nose for good measure, the band too close to his lips. He figures it's best to keep his facial muscles intact from the frosty reproach. "Oh, where's the love?"

"Not funny." Sugawara-san deadens his tone, gaze sharp from behind the lens of his glasses. The garter of his blue gloves squeak. He pulls off each with practised grace and drums a finger against his clipboard.

Something tells Tadashi they're about to enter a sombre conversation now. He gulps, arms between his thighs now squeezed in tight.

"I heard the _ache_ was harsher this time. How are you holding up?"

The _ache_ , a term collectively used for the vehement uprising against the _much-too-often_ complicated jargons of the medical abode (courtesy to that one funny babble Yaku-san's patient wailed about in hysterics), is a hugely talked about discussion among the nurses. They have a habit of keeping tabs on the intervals of each _ache._ They note the scale of pain, recurrence of the peaks, even the irregularities in between exhales. It's a method to subtly weigh the prevalence of the _twinges_ \- something to keep their minds off of stilted progress, the ones frequently intercepted by more and more aches. _The goal is to go home without counting_ , Yaku-san's adage explains simply.

Tadashi recalls counting three aches within the week. Two of which he had managed to dissuade before the _cusps_ and one, not so manageable enough to escape from.

"Still better than the first." Tadashi solaces himself. Out of instinct, his body reclines. The dip of his shoulders hitches.

Sugawara-san offers him a tender pat on the head. "Hey, it's going to get better. You've been doing well last month."

Tadashi purses his lips. _Better_ , is a bit of an overstatement. _Better_ , is a scant possibility too. But Tadashi supposes there is no point in squandering Sugawara-san's optimism. God knows how many of the kids rely on his promises. No matter the uncertainty of it.

"I'm sure it will." And so Tadashi says. His words earn him a balmy grin, wide enough to rival the flitting rays of the cloudless horizon.

"Now off you go to your merry club." Sugawara-san flattens the creases of Tadashi's cardigan sleeves. Gently, he guides the younger out of the high seat. "You don't want to be late and get the springy couch, do you?"

"Absolutely not." Tadashi shakily protests. His steps are haste. The rhythm of his motions chimes in perfectly to the rings of unanswered telephones.

In no more than five marches, he finally reaches the threshold and meets the lofty ceilings of the hospital's left-wing hallway. Tadashi stares ahead. At the end of the straight path awaits an empty clubroom, or so he prays. If Tadashi times his strides well, he could be there before the first wail of Shouyou's victorious claim on the cosy armchair. But then again, the club does not only consist of Shouyou.

The club, Tadashi insists on telling, consist of four kids. There's Shouyou, the oldest and quite possibly the most buoyant, sprightly, spirited human tangerine you'll ever meet. He's the quintessential contrast of Kei and Tobio combined. While his existence shines a remarkable glow on the dimly lit skies, his reticent, unsociable peers wallow in the frosty shade of its decline.

Tadashi means to say that for every bubbly, jolly Shouyou that exists, there is a snarky, caustic, _metaphor-for -anything-cynical_ named Kei and a much reserved, gentle soul named Tobio —who, by some hapless luck, is more often than not misread for his impassivity. There is a Tadashi too, one who differs from his unapproachable companions as the nervous, more withdrawn wreck with little tinge in his image but the freckles to keep him noticeable to most people.

The nurses had thought them too different from each other. _A gang of twittering misfits_ , as they would adoringly call them. But as pronounced as the distinctions had been, most especially the perpetual tensions of Kei and Tobio's riddling friendship, one unchallenged commonality exists within this particular club.

They're all sick kids.

It would explain why Kei, ever the quick-witted one, had casually dubbed it _The Dying Kids Club._ A morose taunt, but Tadashi found the title had a good ring to it. Even Shouyou, albeit reluctant of the negativity it emitted, had learned to love the name. And as one would expect of his lover, Tobio had huffishly relented to it by default. The struggle wasn't much about being unsettled by the title. Tobio was more perturbed by the idea of agreeing with Kei over anything remotely important.

With the personal sentiments put aside (and other grievances settled over a carton of milk), the name was unanimously agreed upon.

 _Aaand_ with his heedless thoughts sent adrift and gone uninterrupted, the cosy armchair he religiously vied for was now irrefutably claimed. _Very attentive,_ _Tadashi_. Very.

"I win." Kei cooly announces. The room freezes in dismay.

Shouyou makes a sound between a heave and a screech, dishevelled in all angles. "Darn you, french fry!"

As it turns out, Tadashi is not the only sore loser for the day.

He swallows a lump, breath near-erratic. From across him, a different hallway greets. Tobio stands a hulking shadow, just as bated from all the hectic running. Or, whatever impromptu race he had going on with Shouyou. Tadashi never knows between the two.

"Oh grow up, it's just a seat." Kei makes a sound akin to a sally. The lilt of his voice is innocently playful. His greeting is nothing short of an insult, something the boy is very stellar at committing.

"Good to know you're still a grand asshole."

"Why thank you, I've worked hard for such a title." Kei holds a book in his hand. Calmly, he turns another page. Even with half of his face hidden, Tadashi could paint the smug, close-lipped grin behind its green covers.

Tobio snorts at his typicality and decides to parry the taunt. He treads carefully, carrying a limp with him as he plops down on one of the less favoured seats. Shouyou follows him within an instant. Warily and with much attention to the boy's leg-brace, he lands a merry head on the other's lap. One sound flump has Tobio fondly carding through the mess of orange locks.

With everyone settled down, Tadashi is left to take the springy couch. Shouyou is kind enough to send him a sheepish gesture of peace.

"So, what's the agenda?" The squeak of the leg's couch abrades everyone's ears. Tadashi winces out an apology as he slumps into its backrest.

"Tanaka-san said some volunteers are going to make a visit." Kei, with a chiding glance, cautions him to sit upright. Nonchalantly, he skims through another leaf in his book. Tadashi casts the cover page a curios peek and reads as the golden font spell out _Butterfly Musings_. A peculiar choice for a jovial morning. Tadashi remembers fuming at the distasteful ending of the story.

Tobio harrumphs. Scowling, he flicks Shouyou's temple, urging the boy off his lap. "They're going to send people again? The last group was just a month ago."

"Same old stuff I guess." Kei sighs, brows flat against his forehead. "I don't know why they even bother with it. It's not like it's going to change anything around here. They ought to be more original or else I'm really going to rot out of boredom."

"Don't be so sour," Shouyou leans on Tobio's shoulders. He keeks from behind the other's shadow and grins at Kei. "You still have us to keep you company!"

Kei crinkles his face at the offered comfort. This time, Tadashi is the one to berate him with a look.

"I'd rather pass." The boy says flatly. Then with a swift flip, he sets his book down. A yellow paper peers out of the closed pages. The edge of it flaps as Kei pinches it between his frail fingers. Fiddling a pen in his hand, he begins to survey the contents.

He turns to Tobio and narrows his eyes. "Did you finish your checklist?"

Tobio grumbles back, already offended by the blonde's unsaid judgement. "Haven't finished much yet."

"Figures." Kei scoffs. The tap of his pen is heavier on the paper, his force almost petulant. Each word he scribbles, the note wrinkles. Tobio, having been silently reprimanded, furtively fishes out a paper from his pocket and begins to do the same. For the few minutes that they work on silence, Shouyou happily munches on a cupcake he had taken from the nurse's desk.

Tadashi and Shouyou watch on as the two mull over their list, content to simply listen to the faint scratches of ink against parchment. It's the normalcy for all of them. Kei and Tobio would write about their wishes, the things they would do if they weren't, in Kei's words, bound to this place until their decay –and Tadashi and Shouyou would start a conversation of their own, chattering from the sidelines.

The first time Tadashi had taken part in the routine, he'd been nearly daunted. Here were these two kids, contemplating over dreams so distant from their disposition, scrawling thoughtlessly of their ideal destinations and wishful reveries as if there was not a bone in their system incapable of going to those same faraway places. _They're secretly romantics_ , Shouyou had jested. Sick dreamers who want to travel the world. That was what Shouyou called them.

Even to this day, a part of Tadashi cannot fathom the entirety of it. But he is more than welcoming of the intrigue. It's not everyday that a home like theirs hosts any hopeful dwellers. No matter how surprisingly unmatched Tobio and Kei are for the title.

"How do you feel about Mt. Fuji?" Tobio speaks a hushed moment later. His list for today, Tadashi surmises, is going to be creative at best. He also anticipates Kei to bristle at it in animated disapproval.

This time, Kei is less strident. He is still disagreeable, however. "I'm supposed to climb that?"

Tobio counters him, his prominent frown etched deeply. "'S what mountains are for." He grunts as Shouyou peers and snickers at his paper. "A deal is a deal."

"Absolutely not. Pick something else."

"Bungee?" Shouyou propositions.

Kei considers the offer with arched brows. From Shouyou, the suggestion sounds more auspicious. "Where?"

Shouyou, just as terribly bad at advice as his boyfriend, ruins the trust by a single misstep, "Grand Canyon."

The blunder is met by Kei's derisive sneer. "You really want me dead, don't you?"

A glare from the blonde and Tobio quickly comes to his partner's rescue. "Fine then, just have sex. Your cranky virgin ass sure as hell needs it."

Tadashi cringes as Kei halts on his writing. "He says, as if he isn't one himself." Disdainfully, he adds, "And what in the world made you think sex is a good solution?"

Tobio shrugs. "Good for the mood. Read it somewhere." His paper creases as he pulls on its end. Tadashi sees the trace of bold letters. Tobio reads aloud, "Skydiving?"

Tadashi, a quiet observant, struggles to swallow down a cackle. It only takes a menacing frown from Kei for Tadashi to easily abandon all hopes of laughing freely.

"I give up." The blonde exhales, disgruntled. "You're hopeless. Can't you think of something less _you_?"

"But that's the whole point of this," Tobio argues. "If you're going to make me do boring shit like read in the library or walk a dog I'm gonna kill you."

"Not if good ol' grim reaper gets there first." Kei scoffs. "Also fuck you, I'm not that boring."

As if to disprove his point, Tobio snatches the paper from his hand and announces to the room, more loudly than Kei would have preferred, "Ride a bike to the park and watch the sunset." The boy poses a wrinkled expression, somehow repulsed. "That's fucking cheesy."

"Give me that." Kei steals the list back. His glower is ghastly, the perfect shade of blue and overcast mornings. "Your existence is a disservice to this list."

"You don't do mine justice either."

Kei's expression contorts. Tobio mirrors the mock and prepares himself for a spat.

Before the tension could transcend into a bicker, Yaku-san comes strutting the common room. He holds a clipboard, one hand on his hip and the other over his shoulder. The heat of his stare has Kei and Tobio urgently resolving their conflict. It did not deter both Shoyou and Tadashi from evincing a giggle or two, however.

"Settle yourselves children," Yaku-san demands the group's full attention with just a modicum of strictness. Despite only the barest of it, he never fails to get Tadashi all anxious. Even Shouyou sits upright at the stern look in his face. For Kei and Tobio, the effect is more patent.

"Yaku-san," Shouyou greets stiffly. "Is there a problem?"

"There might be a slight problem." Yaku-san answers tiredly. "The volunteer they sent for today has a bit of a...troublesome history."

Tadashi raises a brow. "Troublesome how?"

The older clears the strain in his throat. He pins a stray strand behind his ear. "You could say he's somewhat of a delinquent. This is kind of a punishment for him more than anything, really."

Kei snorts. "The hospital's allowing all sorts of strangers in here now?"

"I've tried to voice my concerns with the director but," Yaku-san purses his lips. "It looks like the support group insists on making it a good experience for the kid. Plus, his dad's real good friends with the director so... you can guess the rest of it."

"Is it going to be just him today?" Tadashi queries nervously. Somehow, the thought of a stranger coming into their circle troubles him. He wasn't this unwelcoming with the other volunteers. They didn't last long enough for Tadashi to enjoy their company anyway. He just knows that something in Yaku-san's expression guarantees this particular volunteer would be more persistent than the others.

"The support group put him up for three months worth of work."

"What kinda work would a kid have to do around here?" Tobio questions.

"Beats me. They probably just want you guys to make new friends." Yaku-san heaves a sigh. "Anyway, we've got little choice to intervene on the matter. From the looks of it, the kid's the same."

"And if he's going to be an asshole about it?" Kei poses.

"Better not," Shouyou hopes. "We don't want another stingyshima around this already bitter place."

"Well aren't you considerate." Kei retorts dryly.

"I've only talked with the kid twice but he seemed polite enough," Yaku-san assures. "He's about your age actually, maybe a year or two older."

Tobio makes a noise, mildly amused. "What, just a wanna-be delinquent then?"

"He's got a piercing on his tongue," Yaku-san informs.

The room whistles cheerily at the new detail. The stress from before rapidly dissipates as every pair of eyes direct their focus on Tadashi. Privy to a joke he had been subjected for years of living in the place, Tadashi assumes the worst and squirms in his seat.

"Sounds like someone's type." Shouyou begins to quirk his brows. He wiggles them, throwing Tadashi suggestive winks. "Don't think we forgot about your dream bad-boy vampire boyfriend."

Tadashi groans helplessly. "Will you ever let that go?"

"Never." Kei and Shouyou chorus, impish as the twittering gossipers. Then, raising his pitch to a higher, more obnoxious imitation, Shouyou continues to jape, "I bet he's got tattoos too. Maybe he's got a piercing down there — _ow_! Tobio, what're you pinching me for?! "

"Stop talking about someone else's dick piercing." Tobio grumbles. "Bet the guy's not that cool anyway."

"Jeez, I was just tryna tease Tadashi. No need to get jealous."

"He's a halfwit running on fumes, what did you expect?" Kei stifles a yawn as he faces Tadashi. His smug grin is less apparent. His body sags, blinks sluggish and tone drowsy. "I'm going to pass for today's meeting. I'm sure Tanaka-san will keep the kid in line if he ever gets in trouble."

"Not like we need you to do that for us," Tobio replies. There is a smidgen of concern in his voice when he surveys Kei's faltering steps, a stark contrast from his feigned indifference. "Can you handle walking on your own?"

Kei hums monotonously. "I'm fine. The room's just a floor above."

"I'll come with you," Yaku-san tells him. Within seconds, he has an arm on the other's back. The nurse sends the rest a parting glance, giving out his last instruction.

"You guys stay here and wait for the volunteer. Tanaka-san is going to escort him for this session so you lot better behave, understand?"

" _Haiiii_ ," Shouyou drawls. Smiling empathetically, he waves at Kei. "Take care, okay?"

"You too." Kei replies to the group. And with a nod, his footsteps begin to dwindle. Yaku-san follows close behind, gait lighter in comparison.

"Now what?" Shouyou asks to the growing silence. The clock above them snicks, signalling its 9th hour.

"We wait." Tobio says.

They don't talk about the worry festering in their stomachs. It's a tradition of theirs, to evade any talk of aches (or any signs of it) in the one room they do not feel constrained. _A place of no worries_ , Shouyou had proclaimed. No distress. Only peace to keep their minds placated.

Left to relish the stillness, Tadashi glimpses at the seconds and counts.

 _Three, four, five_... six seconds in and the room livens up again. Tadashi perks at the jingle of Tanaka-san's boisterous guffaw. It resounds, blithe as the blinding sunrise. Tadashi realises too late the lump of two approaching figures. He only hears the echo of laughter, vibrant and rowdy that the hallways beam at its volume.

"Sounds like the kid's going to be a lot of fun." Shouyou mumbles. He twines his fingers with Tobio's, shifting in his seat.

Maybe, Tadashi muses, there's not a need for them to be anxious about the new kid. Without warning, he flushes at the memory of a mentioned piercing. The absent musings get him more than a few strikes to the face. 

In the ten seconds that he keeps his mind afloat, the nearing strides quell altogether. When Tadashi dares an upward tilt of the chin, he is greeted by the grand entrance of an _oh-so-_ charming boy, clad in glamour and dressed handsomely from head to toe.

"Would you look at that," Tobio comments faintly from his seat. His tone is even, not a tinge of mischief. "He's exactly your type."

The frank, genuine intent of Tobio's words is what ultimately sends Tadashi into a mortifying spiral.

He spends the rest of the introduction never once meeting the new kid's gaze.

* * *

Terushima Yuuji. Tadashi learns the kid's name is Terushima Yuuji. 

He didn't talk much with the other on the first meeting. The only thing he'd been able to utter near the boy's vicinity was a fumbling _hello_ and a shy _yes_ and _no_. 

Albeit his crippling apprehension, Tadashi listened to everything the boy had to say about himself – his likes, dislikes, the brands of his clothes and the car he broke, how he has a knack for pissing off his neighbours and barking at the authority. _A pumped-up rebel_ , he'd confidently called himself. Tadashi heeded to all of his stories without bearing any input in return, only saying nothing beyond five words. With Shouyou, and by extension Tobio, the chatters had been a delight. But with Tadashi, the conversation sorely lacked any bit of amusement.

It wasn't long before Kei got wind of the whole situation. He had been quick to partake on the ribbing, much ecstatic than his wearied condition the other day. And while Tadashi revelled in being the reason for Kei's livelier grins, he was yet to truly enjoy their jibes. Not when Tanaka-san had been more than willing to add a few noises.

Even now, he is doggedly chary about the relentless pressure of their cheers. He dreads it. All of it. Especially with Terushima around to notice them. And if the boy were every bit canny, Tadashi is just glad he hasn't uttered any remarks.

For today, Tadashi is beyond thankful that the boy is later than usual. Had he been an hour early, Tadashi would not have been too sure he would be able to handle the unapologetic teasing. Or the consequent aftermath of it. 

"Too bad, really." Shouyou fakes a dramatic sigh with his entrance. For this meeting, he is second only to Tadashi. His fate ends with him on the jerky, uneven sofa. 

"Tanaka-san did say he's a late-riser." Kei, the unfortunate third, gets to quarrel with the older for the snug cushioned end of the seat. 

"Or maybe he finally realised how weird you guys are and refused to come again." Tobio is the last to arrive. And he gets the hapless lumpy spot at the centre of the cramped sofa. Not one soul in the room is keen on taking the springy, barren couch next to Tadashi's left. 

Shouyou squawks at the sparse space and huffs as the last pillow is stolen from his nimble fingers. It lands on Kei's side of the couch, the boy cosily surrounded with an adequate supply of cushions. 

"Oh please, stop overselling yourself. You're no different than all of us." From his throne of pillows, Kei delivers his daily collection of insults. "I'd say you're the oddest, but then I'd be excluding your greatest competition."

"Make it a tie." Shouyou happily suggests. He loops an arm around Tobio's shoulders. "You and me both, we make the oddest couple."

"Don't lump me in with you!"

" _Aww_ , Tobio-kun! Don't be so flustered now, just admit you love it -"

Kei shakes from the shifts of blushing floundering on his side. He deadpans, chin buried in another book and forehead engraved with irritation, "Must we all start the morning with shameless flirting?"

Chirpy from the loss of focus on him, Tadashi begins to feel mischievous. "There, there Tsukki. If you're ever feeling envious, I'm sure Kuroo-san would be willing to provide you company."

The ruckus halts. Shouyou and Tobio take a long, baffled while to process the revelation. 

"Kuroo?" Tobio parrots. He blinks, the arms raised in defence against Shouyou's attempts for smooches falling imply. "You have the hots for the doctor?"

" _Ooohh_ , Kei you rascal! I knew you were always into men who wear lab coats!" 

Kei colours, "T-that's! You're wrong. _Absolutely_ wrong. Tadashi stop telling them lies! Their insipid minds might get the wrong idea and I'm going to be forced to suffer it."

"But it's true," Tadashi says guiltlessly, or as guiltless as a stellar liar could act, "Just last Sunday, I caught you drooling over his rolled-up sleeves. I even heard you mumble about his _veiny_ biceps." 

"Zip your mouth or so help me I will -"

"My, my Kei! Aren't you one horny lad!"

"Oh my god, shut up! That was just one time!"

Tadashi absorbs the scene of Shouyou jumping over Tobio's figure to ruffle Kei's crisp locks. He laughs, pleased to death by the ridiculous chortles of Shouyou and shrieking protests from Kei. The blonde is absolutely thrown off his haughty distant pretence now that he has the odd couple's undivided attention on him. And Tadashi is living for all of its silliness.

"I didn't know you could laugh like that."

\- that is, until Terushima gets the timely idea to arrive at the exact moment Tadashi is gagging unattractively on a mouthful of bland loaf.

The ruckus halts for the second time. Suddenly, the breeze is hotter in the room.

Tadashi half-expects the tranquil ambience to stay as ease. But he knows his heathen peers are far too rambunctious to stay the same. Tadashi does not understand why he even bothers hoping for a miracle. 

Kei is the first to disprove the faith Tadashi has put in him. "Oh trust me, there's much you should know about him."

Shouyou is the second to follow. His grin is brimming with mirth, head lolled over Tobio's slumped back. "Maybe over a cup of coffee?" 

"What would they need the coffee for if they can just talk - _hgh?!_ " 

"What Tobio means to say is," Shouyou evades a slap as he detaches his elbows from his boyfriend's rib. Terushima furrows a worried brow at Tobio's breathless grunts. "I think it would be good for you guys to get to know each other more since you didn't talk much last time. Maybe by running some errands for us, _hm_?"

Tadashi gapes. His lungs constrict and the slow trickle of sweat on his temple badgers him to blink. Rapidly, the curls of his lashes flutter. Tadashi sinks in his seat, a speechless dimwit about to wallow in his tireless distress. He acts out his unease with the slack dip of his chin, evading the quizzical glances fixed on him.

One peek at the conflict in Terushima's eyes has Tadashi squeaking a stammer, "Y-you don't have! I can do it on my own, just... _uhm_ , you guys start the meeting and I'll get the, ah yes! The drinks." Frantically, Tadashi jolts from his seat. His skitterish nerves send him into a frenzy, gesticulating wildly as he faces his smirking friends, "Shouyou what was yours again? Orange right, yes and Tobio is milk, strawberry for Kei then I'll get one for T-terushima-san -"

"I'll help." Terushima cuts him off with a boyish chuckle. His clothes rustle as he advances towards Tadashi's space. The glint of his bomber jacket winks. It's a handsome yellow today, fit for the boy's summery smile.

"It sounds like a lot of drinks for one person to handle. Besides, it's kind of my job to help around here, you know?"

Horror replaces his already alarmed nerves. Tadashi plants his sole to the floor in defeat, unresponsive to the titters of his friends. The room's gazes carry the same heat as the stabbing sunlight. Eventually, Tadashi concedes. Much to the others' genuine surprise.

"Well that settles it," Kei springs out of his shock, enthused over the chance of another blackmail material. "I'll have a strawberry please. Milk for this idiot and orange for the idiot over there."

"Actually, I'm craving for milk today." Shouyou bounces. He signs a number with his fingers, "Two for the odd couple." 

Tobio grunts displeasingly, but his ears are red. 

"So two milk and stawberry," Tersuhima makes an imitation of a waiter with the ghost of his imaginary pen and paper. "Anything else?"

"That's all," Shouyou gets the idea to pretend as a dismissive customer of some high-class cafe. "You may go."

Terushima laughs at the shooing motion. He pockets a hand and tips his head, chin inclined to the hallway's exit. With that same boyish grin in place, he locks his eyes on Tadashi's timid orbs.

"You comin'?" He asks cooly. His nonchalance has Tadashi reliving his badboy vampire boyfriend fantasy all over again. 

"Y-yeah." Tadashi manages to reply meekly. 

"Great!" Terushima cheers, "You'll be my navigator for the day."

The rest of his unvoiced hesitance is whisked away as Terushima leads him by the hand. He gawks, stunned beyond belief to register that the hold on him is firmer. Belatedly, Tadashi realises the rogue pink of his whole complexion.

Is this how forward and tactless the kids outside of the hospital are? How they do not mind a single touch may be a mystery to Tadashi. For good measure, Tadashi tries to compare the presumption to the seldom caresses he had the unlikely fortune of getting from strangers. Some come from inquisitive children, others from clumsy nurses unsteady on their first days and most from elders who have long forgotten the faces of their own grandchildren. 

Never, and Tadashi seriously means _never_ , has the touch come from a bright, well favoured, attractive boy. The simple novelty is what colours Tadashi a darker shade. In secret, he basks in the newness. 

"So what's your thing?" 

Tadashi wobbles. "My thing?"

"You know," Terushima states casually, arms attentive as he rambles on, "How long you've been here, how much you know about this place, the people, your likes, dislikes, dreams and all that jazz - _your_ thing." 

Tadashi notes the boy's habit of gesturing excitedly and feels as each motion pulls him closer to the other's side. He asks with a graceless stumble, "Why would you need to know about that?"

His question makes the older falter in his walk. 

"Why not?" Terushima retorts. "Those are the things that make you _you_ , right?" 

"Yeah, I mean I get that but," Tadashi nibbles on his lip. He tries to stop himself from picking on his nails, highly aware of the grip on his fingers. "Why would you want to know about me?"

"Is there a reason I shouldn't?"

"No -"

"Then it's okay to ask right?" The boy tells him with kind frankness. His face is honest, open for Tadashi to doubt. 

"You seem awfully committed to this volunteer thing." 

Terushima chuckles at the obvious evasion. He wisely chooses not to comment on it. 

"It's fun." He replies instead. "Better than the other options I've been offered. 'Sides, I get to hang out with you guys."

Tadashi raises a brow. "Not a fan of the kids outside?"

The boy shrugs at him, lax. "They're cool and all. But it gets boring after some time. It's nice to look for other places when you're doing the same old shit every day. New dreams and all that."

"I didn't think you'd be one for dreams." Tadashi skips an uneven tile. There's a pebble in his lane that he stops to kick, attention nowhere.

A thumb traces a circle on his knuckles. "Are you?"

Tadashi regards the boy with puzzlement. "Am I what?"

"Are you one for dreams?"

"No." Tadashi answers automatically. "Not really."

"Why not?" Terushima pries. He means well, Tadashi can see. But he supposes not everyone would be alright with all the spontaneous interrogation. 

And yet for Tadashi, the questions do not feel jarringly intrusive. For Tadashi, the questions are welcomed. From Terushima, it's easy to answer all of them.

Wind sweeps the lingering reluctance. They pass by the ornate gazebo, its pillars gleaming at their shadows as if privy to a secret they're yet to know themselves. Tadashi fastens a strand behind his ears. He feels the breeze grow lighter, warmer in the presence of the other boy.

"I mean look at me." He starts shy. "There's not really much to dream with a counted life."

Terushima glances at him. "So you think there's no sense to it?" 

" _No, no, no_! It's not –it's not like that." Tadashi shakes his head. His shoulders move with him. Calming his nerves, he begins more quietly, "I made a wish."

"A wish." Terushima parrots. They're nearing the corridor adjacent to the main canteen. He halts just before a trail of balusters.

Tadashi nods, hearkening to the lulling chirrups of blue jays.

"The day after my 14th birthday. My dad and I planned to go stargazing. Look at the sky, count the stars. My dad promised to teach me how to search for constellations. Mom even had our bags packed and food prepared. But then...then I woke up aching all over and that was, that was the end of it." 

He avoids the unblinking stare thrown his way. With a heavy sigh, he continues, "It's not that I don't want to dream...it's just, it's not for me."

After a persistent minute of quietness, Terushima speaks again, "You can choose to have one. Just for the fun of it."

"Dream for the fun of it?" Tadashi almost scoffs at the idea. 

"Yeah. Think of it as a back-up plan. When you're finally out of this place. Wouldn't that be great? To already have something to do. It's better than wandering helplessly like a lost lamb."

" _If_ I get out of this place." 

"Come on now, don't be such a bummer." The boy disentangles his hand from the other. He bumps a joking shoulder, arms outstretched to catch the fine lines of Sunday rays. Terushima skips two steps as he bounds down the stairs, livelier than ever.

"If you keep thinking that way, it's going to be boring for you."

His unassuming smile is all Tadashi needs to break from the entrancing bubble Terushima put him in - because _of course_ , of course Tadashi is a _bummer_. A stark opposite of the fun, outgoing kids of the _outside_ world _._ The world he is yet to be a part of - and quite possibly never will be.

He remembers, finally pulling his thoughts to a scratching halt, how Terushima is glaringly different from him. While he treads more easily in his two healthy limbs, a free boy of the century, committing reckless acts of rebellion and calling it bouts of unrestricted fun, Tadashi is here to sit out the rest of his uneventful days - tethered to a fate he never chose. 

So of course, Tadashi _is_ a sore bummer.

"You're right." He manages to keep himself composed. "I'm sorry if I'm such a bore." 

Terushima is sharp enough to hear the ill in his tone. He's acutely responsive, steered from his carefree lane. The furrowed lines of confusion are more pronounced as he eyes Tadashi. 

"Hey, no - _wait_. That's not what I said. I just meant -"

Tadashi is never one for confrontation though. So he hurriedly parries from it, "No, no I get it. You don't have to explain it to me. We should hurry up anyway, Tobio needs his daily dose of milk or else he's going to be grumpy all day."

And with as much speed as he can muster, he jogs straight towards the cafeteria's lobby. Their shoulders brush and Terushima is left skittering to match his pace. 

"Wha- _hey_! Hold up!"

Tadashi doesn't hinder his steps for a single second. 

They come back, hands full of four cartons of milk to compensate for the delay and a box of treats for Shouyou's whining stomach. Their distance appears more awkward than ever. 

"Rough start?" Tobio poses. 

"I don't even want to talk about it." Tadashi huffs.

* * *

Terushima seeks him out the next morning.

Beneath the covers of the gazebo, stuck to a paragraph he keeps reading on repeat, Tadashi amuses his endeavour. But not without a stubborn act of detachment.

He tries to remain unaffected as Terushima bounces towards the swirling pathways. Tadashi mutes a chortle when he stumbles over a cobblestone, intent on seeming amiable. Yesterday had both been their faults and while Tadashi is keen on redeeming himself, he is still unsure how to go about the reconciliation. But, if the boy is true to whatever he means to tell Tadashi now, then perhaps the strain could finally ease.

Terushima delivers well by starting off friendly. The natural charm of his frankness is sharp enough to comment on the book in Tadashi's hand. No diffidence, no incertitude. A bonafide conversationalist. 

"Butterfly Musings. Tragic romance."

Tadashi couldn't say no to that. The book is a treat for the jaded souls. Some say its angst is strong enough to tease out the pitiful remnants of emotion from even the most dispassionate. 

"It's a good story." Tadashi offers as a contribution. It's not the lengthiest of replies, but it gets the boy buzzing. 

"Had a lot of cool allegories in it too." Terushima hums. Gingerly, he invites himself to the seat across Tadashi's. He keeps their proximity comfortable, far and safe from spontaneous contact- far from yesterday's unabashed approach. Tadashi isn't sure why his hands feel a little colder at the reminder.

"You mean about the butterfly being someone's ghost?" 

"Yeah, that." Terushima nods eagerly. His hands grasp the seat's ledge, shoulders hitched up to perfect arches. "Something about their souls transforming into a butterfly before they go. Romantic, isn't it?"

"I suppose you could say that." Tadashi closes the book shut. He places it to his side, the rustic covers standing out from the pallid sheen of the balusters. Tense silence hangs in the air. The whirring in his mind loudens, thumping in its restlessness.

"Listen, I'm sorry." Without realising, they both chorus a response. Terushima is the first to break from the restive air. 

"I shouldn't have said that." He begins. The zipper of his jacket jingles as he reclines, head rested against the handrail. For this morning, he wears red. "It wasn't any of my business to tell you what to do with your life."

Out of instinct, Tadashi pulls his legs to his chest. He too leans himself against the gazebo's sturdy railings. "I was at fault too. For being rude to you. I shouldn't have done that."

"You were rude for good reason." Terushima protests. "Sometimes I can get carried away and I start spouting shit. More of a bad habit, really."

Tadashi dips his chin. His body curls inward, unsure of himself. Because try as he might, he cannot deny the weight of the boy's words. They bother him. Every time Tadashi thinks about it he can't help but acknowledge how they bear some semblance of truth. They hold sentiments so far from his beliefs that they make him rethink - _reconsider_. 

And that frightens him. Terushima frightens him.

"I really enjoy talking with you." He says. He catches Tadashi's gaze and holds on to it with open honesty. "Do you think you could give me another chance?"

Everyday for Tadashi is typical. Get up, get checked, converse with the nurses. Laugh with Kei. Laugh at whatever Shouyou does. Laugh at whatever Tobio says about it. Maybe read a book or two and then sleep. 

But today, with this strange boy just two feet away, nothing feels typical. 

The change baffles Tadashi so much he finds himself whispering, "Okay."

Tadashi predicts the next mornings will not be the same anymore. 


	2. faith like strelitzia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "When we were kids Akiteru-san used to read us a story. About this... legend. It said that if you trek a mountain and survive it long enough to reach its peak, you could be closer to space. I figured if I ever get there I might see some aliens."
> 
> "Aliens?" Tadashi clarifies with a giggle.
> 
> Tobio grins with him. He shrugs, languid. "Stuff Tooru used to talk about. I wanted to see for myself if they really exist."

Envy is a word that most defines mankind. It exists to divide. To ruin. It lives even in the wealthy and the comfortable, shaming them for what they once thought they never cared for. And even in those who never thought themselves lacking begin to see themselves short of anything. Because envy makes them believe there is a world they are not a part of. Envy is what drives a man to obsession - to be the best, the greatest and the _most_ of everything until he is layered in possessions that are not true to him. 

Envy is a feeling that lingers in Tadashi's being. It coils itself around him with the ghastly grip of a snake. They suffocate him, prey on the turmoil in his mind and poison him with the venom of nothingness. Envy is a hideous feeling that makes him believe he is nothing more than a piece of disposable existence. A blur to the hustle of the universe.

Tadashi feels it blossom in his veins on days he glimpses at a group of kids drift by his window panes - jesting and howling in their ruffled uniforms, not a lame limb to stop them from skipping on a step or bouncing on a trail of green leaves (the sorts that never fall on the pavements of the hospital). 

Tadashi's blood seeps with green bile on days he catches a whiff of milk bread from the cafe across - brimming with people huddled over their phones, their conversations, retelling stories of their latest venture to the mall, the theatre, the beach where the sand is coarse and the waves are idle, the mountain parks where the winds howl and the smudge of clouds caress - a life lived well shared through a cup of affogato, macchiato, fancy brewed drinks Tadashi wouldn't know and wouldn't be allowed to know. 

On days envy plagues his mind, the aches sting with malice and he wilts more easily. Because envy, for Tadashi, is his inescapable reality. 

And they say faith is the only answer for it. Tadashi knows better than to agree. Faith, after all, is a bullish illusory for the desperate.

It isn't as if Tadashi has any qualms about deeply-rooted beliefs or the arguable actuality of their deities and origins. He is simply not a man of faith. Tadashi is a doubter to anything positively intangible. He only treasures a few; the warmth he feels from the tight bonds of friendship, the bouts of anger in between flourishing desires that lead nowhere and - the erring whiff of envy. Something as abstract as the impalpable quiddity of faith is a dangerous drug.

No one should be subjected to the torment of a farce, no matter how convincing its allure is. No one deserves that. Especially the _dying_.

But for the _living_ it's more compelling to depend on it. They are most possibly the ones to misconstrue the reality of truth. For them, it's hope for the soul. Some may display it plainly and attend masses to placate their misgivings. Some subtly. Others stubbornly. 

And for Koutarou-san, he does it simply. For Koutarou-san, just a tinge of faith (and its subsequent merits) proves its actuality. He lives a buoyant life bound by the promises of intangibles and he does not complicate the workings involved in them. Perhaps that is why Tadashi, though an inhabitant of the different end of the spectrum, finds him profoundly admirable.

The effect he has on the people is incomparable to anything Tadashi has ever seen walked through the halls of the hospital. When he comes romping, livening up the place with just the crack of his clamorous cackle, he seems to appear as Life itself. Perhaps, because of his unhinged optimism, even his brother Shouyou confidently counts himself a believer. 

Being part of the _dying_ circle meant embodying a hint of stubbornness. A great defiance to the outer corner - the world Tadashi often sees as foreign to himself and to the others. But Shouyou possesses none of that defiance. Tadashi is sure much of his carefree compliance is credited to his brother's spirited frolicking alone.

Shouyou, he surmises, is easily the most influenced by Koutarou-san's principles. And it isn't anywhere jarring to assume it either. Siblings with the same versions of fun are often the same in everything else. For Shouyou and Koutarou-san, they pose quite the pair of happy _freebirds_. They act and think alike, the things they fawn over and the things that sour their mood, the things they favour and the fewer ones they disdain. Twins of different faces that paint a picture of untroubled soles on a gleeful walk - tethered to the melody of morning's chirpings. 

Their verve is admirably boundless that it pervades even the loftiest nooks - a feat Kei often deems obnoxious on bad days. He defines their company to be the most draining, appraising it as a talent that, in Kei's frank words, _"forces you to blind yourself by staring at the sun at the peak of summer" -_ only _,_ you have no chance of reprieve. 

Tadashi frequently thought him dramatic. He has, time and time again, excelled at his hyperboles merely for the sake of fanciful satisfaction. And yet now, as Tadashi seats just a seat away from the odd siblings, the both of them hollering one zany quip after another, Tadashi finds the grouse less exaggerated. If anything, Kei's warning felt more like an understatement.

Koutarou-san is already an uncanny man. But with Shouyou, the sheer exceptionality of his peculiarity doubles by a thousandfold. They not only blind Tadashi but he might as well be toast just by being around them.

It would be safe to presume then that Terushima, a blatant ally of dangerous and loud fun would be a willful participant of their antics. And presently, he has provided many contributions to the siblings' ruckus. But what is surprising is how sporadic he does it with them. He never indulges fully, always close to Tadashi's side even when damned to sit on the _springy_ couch. Shouyou and Koutarou pose lots and lots of humorous entertainment - and even then, Terushima does not cave. The rest of his time, he wastes on Tadashi's stale and boring company. 

Kei and Tobio have been more than insistent on remarking them about it. Whatever their intentions entail, Tadashi knows it's pure and utter evil. _Ha_ , the gall of him to assume there is goodness in their mischief.

"You'll lose all hope if you keep believing in them." 

Tadashi does a feeble flinch. His cardigan rustles out of protest, rubbing itself against the cold, frayed leather of the springy seat. Terushima regards with a sheepish smile, one that has Tadashi gradually slumping in relief. 

"You're skittish in the morning, aren't you?"

All plans of daydreaming leap out of his mind. Tadashi makes the wise choice of shooing off the weariness with flighty blinks. 

"S-sorry, I usually don't do well in this kind of... _setting_."

Terushima lifts a brow, voice strangely aberrant from his zealous disposition. "You mean the noise? Do they bother you that much?"

Tadashi shakes his head in meek resignation. He explains, _sotto voce_ , nervy fingers on display, "They're fun. Just not the kind of fun my energy could match. I'm glad Koutarou-san is here though. Shouyou clearly needed the company."

"What, he doesn't think you're fun enough for him?" Terushima lowers his voice at the last seconds, wary to keep the conversation private. From the exuberant rackets of Shouyou and Koutarou-san's newly invented game (one that has Kei and Tobio cooperating on a whim) - Tadashi thinks they're more than safe from any untimely eavesdropping. 

"No, not like that," Tadashi says. "Shouyou loves us. But we don't have that boundless verve he has to always joke around. That's why Koutarou-san is the perfect partner for him and his shenanigans." 

He spares the ruckus another peek and giggles as Kei parries another of Koutarou-san's hugs. Shouyou, not one to let his brother wallow in the rejection, swiftly embraces him from the back. It works well enough to return the beam in the older's grins. 

"Sounds like they both need each other," Terushima comments lightly. Tadashi supposes he has no clue of the warm weight his sentence carries.

"Yeah," Tadashi adds, almost a whisper. He casts the brothers a forlorn look and feels the envy churn in his stomach. It poisons him. The stress of his tone drags with a thinly-veiled venom, "I wish I had someone too."

"What about them?" Terushima points at the group with his chin. Tadashi trails his sight's direction and witnesses as Kei sneakily steals a sip from Tobio's milk. 

"I meant someone from the outside world." Tadashi clarifies, plain and simple. 

Terushima chuckles blithely, possibly intrigued by the novelty of his terms. "What outside world? There's only one world."

"Not for us." He retorts. "When you're stuck in one place it feels a lot like being in a different world. _Another_ world."

The older hums, pensive. "This _outside_ world. You think there's someone from there meant for you _?_ "

Tadashi laughs at the possibility. "You kidding?" He asks it with a bit of fascination. There's something frustratingly endearing about how Terushima cannot seem to grasp a reality that's about as obvious as Tadashi's pending death. 

"Try me." The older dares anyway. His back recoils against the seat with one hand atop the headrest, an inch too close to Tadashi's frail shoulders. Again, he tilts his chin, a suave habit of his that flusters Tadashi to no end.

But Tadashi is on a mission and he cannot afford to dally. His main intent is to accept the challenge posed solely to him. And so with a heavy exhale, the younger readies himself for a long speech. He only hopes the others are wholly invested in their unabating chatters to pay him no mind. Although, knowing Koutarou-san's enticing stories of misadventures, Tadashi might have the slimmest chance of being overheard. 

"My parents are not rich. They have to make ends meet every single day just to keep me alive. And so they barely have any time for visits. They're out somewhere, doing whatever they can for a son they hardly ever talk to. 

Half of the patients in this place are old, jaded souls who still think their kids would one day come back to take them home. The other half are staffs who have little time to spare to even make a conversation last for an hour.

And you know why Kei and Tobio scarcely ever get guests? That's because their families have their own lives to live outside _this_ world. This world that every dumb, bratty grandkid has never even heard of. Because that's the thing, isn't it? The outside can't simply stop for people like us.

So no, the outside world doesn't have someone for me." 

Tadashi quells when he recognises the hush pause of the room. He whips his head to meet the stilling cacophony. Koutarou does not hesitate to remark on his ramblings.

"Tadashi?" He proceeds, slow and cautious. "Are you guys okay?"

He makes no move to acknowledge the question. Thankfully, Terushima is there to fill in the silence. 

"We're fine. We were just talking about something."

Kei quirks a brow, arms folded. He moves his head away from Tobio's shoulder and surveys both of them. "Sounds like you were a little serious."

Tadashi tenses from the accusation. Huffing, he fiddles with the strings of his cardigan. He realises much too late that Terushima has enveloped him into a side-embrace. 

"Hey, you know what guys? I think Tadashi wants to get a drink." The older massages a strain near Tadashi's elbow. He plays his tone well, blase and casual. "We're going to the cafeteria to buy some. Do you guys want any?"

"A drink?" Shouyou leaps from his brother's lap. His smile is present still, oblivious to the sceptical atmosphere meandering through. "I could use orange juice, please. What about you _nii_ -san?"

Koutarou-san takes a moment to respond. His eyes are squinted, fiercely curious. "Are you sure there's nothing wrong?"

This time, Tadashi feels brave enough to lie. He lifts his chin up, feigning confidence. "No. W-we're okay. So, _uhm_ , is there anything you want us to buy?" 

The older parts his lips as if to pry again. But Tobio is quick to intervene. 

"I'd like another milk. This thief will have blueberry for stealing half of my drink."

Kei scowls at the threat. He flicks the other's forehead out of spite, keen on correcting his order. 

"Strawberry." He says. Then, tidying the rumples in his clothes (courtesy to Koutarou-san's dogged attempts for a hug), he looks at Tadashi dead in the eyes. "Make sure to buy yourself the same. Might help calm your nerves."

"Great!" Shouyou's satisfied claps resound with unaffected mirth. "Nii-san will have soda. He needs to energize himself before he gets to his practice match."

"S-shouyou!" 

Expectedly, like the committed sibling that he is, Koutarou-san forgoes all plans of probing to praise his brother's kind and thoughtful gesture. He shouts compliments after compliments. Proud and hearty. 

The last Tadashi hears before Tersuhima pulls him off the couch is Kei's sneering jokes about Koutarou-san's brother complex.

With clumsy, hasty strides, they find themselves nearer to their destination. The rest of the noise is muffled by the dwindling taps of Tadashi and Terushima's steps. 

"I'm sorry." Tadashi hangs his head low. His eyes trace the trails of noon rays, the searing streaks they paint past the pillars and over the bland tiles, glinting softly as their shadows lag behind. 

He continues despondently, lacking sufficient understanding of his own thinking. "I didn't mean to be a bummer. I was just... I thought it was okay to talk about it because you said y-you wanted to - or maybe you didn't and I screwed up again -" 

"Hey, it's okay." Terushima laces their fingers together. Gently, he presses a thumb on each of his puny knuckles. "It's my fault. I can't seem to ask the right questions, can I? "

Tadashi almost melts at the smile Terushima offers him. He can't take it. The boy is too considerate with him. Being with Terushim makes Tadashi doubly ashamed and perplexed by his own emotions.

"You're probably the only one who ever asks me anything." He returns. The same pebble stands in his way and he kicks it with a stronger force. " _God_ , I keep sounding like a fucking loser."

Terushima makes a noise akin to a whir. "All part of the teenage angst. It happens sometimes."

"Or every time," Tadashi scorns himself. The same thumb draws a line along his restive fingers. "Probably part of the illness too. Mood swings and stuff."

"All the more reason to not blame yourself," Terushima concludes easily. "You didn't choose to be sick. Or to be stuck in this place. If it were me I'd be hella pissed every day. Probably even curse the heavens for it."

His breathing spikes at the reminder. Somewhere, deep in the crevices of his hollow chest, he feels the stagnant rhythm augment. Tadashi lays a palm against it for fear of erratic beats. Tadashi can't help it. He can't stop himself from basking in the comfort of Terushima's words. The boy might not have even meant much of it or thought twice about spouting the assurance.

But for Tadashi, to be told he is fine as he is and all the uncertainties he has, the words mean more.

"About what you said." Terushima's voice is raspy, jostled by the cooling breeze. The rays are tepid now, a meagre dash across the dimming horizons. And yet his hold remains hot, feverish even - as if he never ran out of warmth. 

"About you having no one from outside."

"Yeah?" Tadashi heeds to him with anticipation. His gait is leaden but his being seeps with fervour.

And when Terushima gazes at him, and only him. Tadashi feels himself combust.

"I can be that for you. That is, only if you want to."

He says it like a promise. No reservations. No reluctance. Tadashi is more than accustomed to promises made on a whim and the flimsy truth their convictions flaunt. They are, in greater ways, more perilous than a string of hailed prayers. Much like faith, they are fleeting. Brief, impermanent intangibles for the _living_. 

And yet, for the first time in a long, _tedious_ while, Tadashi finds no doubt in believing the older's promise.

* * *

"Why are you here?"

Tadashi gains the courage to initiate a conversation with Terushima. It catches the other off-guard, much too soon that he waddles on a step as he nears the gazebo's shade. 

"Figured you could use a buddy," Terushima tells him, coy. Today he wears black, the sleeve of his shirt short and the ends of his jeans clipped. Often, when he pays him a visit beneath the cover of the pavilion, he sits beside Tadashi. A tradition of his that he has no qualms on practising every time there is a space left to fit himself in. 

Tadashi, used to the eccentricities of his habits, does not scare quickly at the contact. He sets his book down. A tradition of his he has no doubts of doing every time there is a chance to chat with the other. Even when the new golden covers of his novel crinkles, denied of rapt focus, Tadashi harbours no remorse for it.

He is much interested in whatever Terushima has to answer. "No, not that. Why are you here?"

Terushima latches on to his intention and drawls out a playful hum. He picks a twine of stray, filmy branches. Absently, he begins to weave their gangly leaves.

"I have a busy dad. An absent mother and shitty siblings." The end of his lashes are long, curled at the tip. They flutter when Terushima spares him a glance. "Take a guess, freckles."

Tadashi fends off the embarrassment and wills himself to stay unruffled by the new name. "One of the troubled kids, I suppose?"

"Pretty much, yeah." The older answers through a sigh. He still has his eyes glued to the wooden twine, fingers aptly stacking and plaiting leaf after leaf as they curl into a circle. "Just some dumb kid with some dumb dreams who's never gonna amount to anything. Or at least that's what the adults say."

"I'm sorry." He feels his stomach keel. Somehow, any bit of insecurity from the other feels like a stab to his chest.

Terushima waves the makeshift crown in his hand, free of spite and sting. He puckers his lips in deep concentration, tying both ends of the branch to a seamless knot. 

" _Nah_. Nothing to pity here. Not like I give a shit about them." Carefully, he raises the crown close to Tadashi's head. "I'm just happy I don't have to deal with the family drama at home."

Tadashi feels the quaint tickle of fronds against his temple. Like a kiss, they leave him a sliver of their tender affection. He wonders, almost guiltlessly, if Terushima's lips would feel just as fond. Or maybe more. His unprompted musings colour him with pink.

"Don't move." Terushima tuts, unexpectedly coltish. With the flick of his wrist, fingers sweep the rebellious strands of Tadashi's fringe. Little by little, he plucks a petal of strelitzia and arranges them as one would with a wreath. "There, now you're even more beautiful."

The wisps of the winds whistle. And without meaning to, Tadashi inclines his cheeks into the older's palm. As if compelled by the elan of a coming dusk, Tadashi allows himself to wallow in the delight.

"Your hands are warm." He whispers. A demure and proper compliment that might have gone astray if not for Terushima's heedful senses. 

"Are they making you sleepy?" Tersushima teases. As pliant as the silken corollas, the press of his flitting brushes douse him in yellow tendrils. 

Tadashi nods a cursory agreement. "They're cosy. Makes me feel like I can sunbathe all day."

"It's the first time I've been praised for my hand." Terushima bites back a guffaw as he deviously adds, "Or at least not in such a pure way."

His jest earns him a reproving pinch on the cheek. Tadashi grumbles, albeit red all over, "Not funny."

"Sorry," Terushima offers with little shame to his apology. Tadashi upbraids him through a narrowed glare. "But really, I don't think anyone has ever given them that much attention."

"Well, they should." Tadashi almost pouts. Rousing boldness kindles within him. He takes the older's hand and draws on fine lines on each fingertip. Snug and secure, the large palm unwinds in Tadashi's clutch. It draws him in. It drugs him with a whiff of sweet poison that renders him drunk in the returns of Terushima's hold.

"You know, sometimes, they feel a lot like faith." The faith he thinks is fictitious. The faith he thinks is endless. 

"Do they now?" 

"Yeah," Tadashi answers candidly. His lashes flitter but his stare never dithers. In a soft, honest tone, he tells him, " _You_ feel a lot like faith."

* * *

To hold faith's hand is an eventuality. Even Tadashi, the fickle doubter and obdurate naysayer, ends up hanging on to it like the steadfast, iron-willed believer he never was.

"He'll be fine," He hears Sugawara-san murmur, a volume mellow to respect the sombre spirit of the place. 

Shouyou's hand is cold in his, frigid but hopeful. Quietly, Tadashi lets his free fingers thread through the vibrant locks of sunset. Press, knead, scratch - just as Koutarou-san would ruffle their heads. The man is running late today and so Tadashi is expected to offer double than his usual support.

"Tobio is fine." Tadashi hears Shouyou repeat on his chest.

Often, Shouyou sits on his brother's lap and nestles in his comfort. He would sag and cling on the strength Koutarou-san emits, the power of his broad shoulders and burly silhouette, the certainty of his affirmations that the world is alright and Shouyou is safe. In his embrace, Shouyou is shielded and protected from the cruelties of tomorrow. He is Shouyou's anchor. But tonight, Tadashi assumes that role for him.

They stare ahead, met with the sight of Tobio's still body. Doused in the scent of disinfectant and clad in the blandest of white garb - if not for the minimal spikes of his breathing, Tadashi would have thought him dead. The possibility terrorizes him. 

The lilt of beeping lines enthuses them to no end. Because it's constant. For now, it's constant.

Any peep of grim strips Tadashi's doubts bare and cajoles him into praying. _Just for a little bit_ , he allows himself to stutter, _just for a little bit of miracle_. 

Still, he mulls over _it_. The stormiest tumult of all. The threat of a loss. The unshakeable fate. 

Death.

It troubles him. In ways he never thought Death would.

"Aren't you scared? Of losing him?"

The evening is young. Inside, the buzz is stiff and the clangors drowsy. Shouyou toys with the buttons of Tadashi's cardigan. Blue, like the frost of Kei's absence. Again and again, he taps on each, a trifling act to keep himself grounded to pacific ripples. Placid and unperturbed by the dissonance of sleepless cities past the confines of their little homes. 

"Did you know I wasn't his first kiss?"

"What?" Tadashi freezes, stunned beyond speech. 

"Before me, there was Tooru-san. Mean, petty, asshole Tooru-san. A handsome jerk, really." 

Mindless of the confusion he has goaded, Shouyou continues to tweak the loose thread of his cardigan. He mentions a name Tadashi seldom hears, only spoken through discreet lips of sympathetic nurses and the huddled kids who chant it in their orisons. Just from that, Tadashi knows he is dead.

"Tobio would always follow him around like a smitten puppy. And even when Tooru-san acted like he didn't like it, he always made sure to be near him. A bunch of lovesick kids, they are. Or _were_."

Tadashi's encircles his arms around the slender weight, grasp taut and tethered to a tentative suspicion. He imagines the signals blaring at him to withdraw, to intervene and cut the exchange short before it further sours the surly hiss of the quiet. No one in their right mind would dare entertain the talk of former affections (most especially _not_ in the presence of _current_ ones). It would haunt them for sure.

"Shouyou." Tadashi cautions faintly. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

Shouyou simpers at him as if to mean _it's okay_. "He wasn't supposed to be with me. Tobio still loves him, I know. He only got together with me because I was a _persistent little shit_ -" 

His face scrunches at Tobio's love _argots,_ the familiar ways that make his idioms discernible from trenchant insults.

"His words not mine." Shouyou's own translates simply. 

Tadashi fathoms the gist of it as an itch seethes in his bones. The soothing pets stop and Tadashi lowers his chin. "Does it bother you? That..."

" _He's_ still there?" Shouyou spells out. Tadashi nods back noiselessly, unnerved by the easing of subtle taps on his chest. "To be honest? No. Tooru-san will always be a part of him. Just as Tobio will always be a part of me."

"And if that's not enough?" _If you don't get to have all of him, what then?_

"I'm fine with the way things are. He has me and I have him." Shouyou says. "The both us. At this very moment -in this very, _very_ special lifetime. What more could I possibly need?" 

Tadashi thinks of death. He thinks of the prospect. How it steals and leaves things undone. He thinks of Tobio and Shouyou. How death could easily separate people in just the snap of an instance. 

_Of course, you need more_ , he wants to argue. It's the least death could give him. 

But Shouyou is no Tadashi. And he has his own commitments. Shouyou has an unbending trust in the world. He is a believer through and through.

"You ask me if I'm scared of losing him. I am. Every second of every day. But I'm more scared of wasting my time worrying about it when I could just kiss his stupid face right now."

Shouyou's hands are cold. Ir is the only feature of him that does not spark. They're detached from the homey grips Terushima gives. And yet they still instil a thrill within Tadashi. Something akin to the surge of kindness. 

Just the thought of it sets his veins alight. _Alive_.

"You're thinking about him, aren't you?"

Tadashi squawks innocently. "I-I was thinking about you too!"

" _Hmm_ , if you say so." Shouyou drones playfully. "He's a good influence on you. Records of delinquency aside."

Tadashi huffs a bashful huff. "How would you know that?"

His query earns him a zestful chuckle. "Oh honey, you don't think we don't know about your gazebo rendezvous? He's basically attached himself to you!"

"H-hold on, a few interactions cannot warrant that!" Tadashi vehemently objects.

Shouyou twists in his embrace to prod him on the cheek. "Your gazebo is your _safeplace_. The last time you let anyone near you, you were nearly feral."

"That's because the guy was an invasive jerk."

"And Terushima wasn't? You did have a rough start." Shouyou muses aloud. "Wonder why _piercings_ gets a different treatment. It is 'cos of the handsome face?"

"I'm not that superficial!" Tadashi squeaks. It jostles the both of them that Shoyuou finds himself tumbling forward. 

As if recharged, Shouyou completely bounces off his lap and lands on smooth ground. "No matter. I'm just glad we've got one less Kei running around."

The friendly ambience curbs to a brisk end. Tadashi shifts at the prompt reminder of Kei's nonattendance. Surveying sideways, he recognises the void he has implanted on his vacant seat. The throne he claims to use to dutifully watch over Tobio. 

"He hasn't visited?" Tadashi mumbles.

Shouyou shakes his head. "You should go to him. Tobio gave quite us the scare today. I'm sure he's still shaken about it."

"Will you be fine on your own?"

The older nods at him. He gestures him a lax thumbs-up, paired with a toothy grin. "I'm not on my own. Tobio's with me." 

Tadashi searches for any lies in the other's smiling eyes. When he is finally certain there is no deception in them, he begins to depart.

"Watch him for me, yeah?"

"Always." Shouyou swears.

It takes him a minute to exit the room and hasten his steps towards the only lit hallway in their level. The drag of his feet is heavier, treading on thin, delicate ice that might possibly break at his intrusion. Tadashi braces himself for the mayhem ahead. The night is long, the walls thorny. Tobio had just gotten a stable breathing an hour ago. Enough for relief to settle in their minds, but brief for adamant thinkers like Kei.

Tadashi is aware of Kei's mechanisms. The manner in which he copes and the streak of spite that accompanies it. And so Tadashi understands that Kei will not be as fine and dandy as the rest of them. He never was. _Aches_ , for Kei, are signs of misfortune. He decodes them as telltale cues, always the first to retreat at the sight of one. A tactic of his he exploits on days he dreads to face the aftermath. No matter how promising they could be.

Tadashi is aware of Kei's mechanisms. He might not be as shrewdly aware of it as Tobio is, but he is equipped with intuitive judgement. And that is enough for him to comprehend that Kei will do something impulsive. 

And sure enough, he catches him right in the act of tearing a piece of his reason. The crumpling checklists in the trashcan had been a literal representation of that.

Tadashi scans the bin with just the raise of his head. Torn pieces of papers glint back at him. He counts the volume of each and estimates the papers to be of three-pages worth. 

It's all the evidence Tadashi needs to berate him. "You are one stupid deal-breaker." 

Kei ignores him without a hitch. 

"Doesn't matter." He rips apart another leaf. Tadashi cringes at the mere sound it makes. "Not like we'll ever get to do it anyway."

"Stop that," Tadashi warns. His pace decelerates. The disapproval in his inflection amplifies. "You never know."

"Oh please," Kei's scoff chimes in the same volume as the force of his pull. "Don't act like you don't think the same way as I do."

His jaw clenches at the offhand remark. For every gash thrown, his body hitches. "At least I know how to respect promises."

The jab is passably adequate. It works well enough to dissuade Kei from shredding another list. For a moment, he thinks Kei has stopped breathing. 

"His heart stopped for a while. Did you know that?"

Tadashi counts the long exhales his friends evinces before he advances, one ginger step at a time. Charily, he grasps on Kei's fingers. He feels as the quivers stiffen and then cower.

"Yaku-san said he almost died tonight." Tadashi nods on as Kei havers on his sentence. 

"He almost died today _,_ Tadashi." Kei repeats as if pinned by the gravity of his own words. His brows crease. The gleam of his eyes shines in resignation, betraying the strong, thin line of his pursed lips. 

"I know," Tadashi whispers. He guides the boy to the train of plastic seats. Steadily and leisurely, their gaits begin to agree. "I know, Kei. We were scared too."

Kei fails to acknowledge his own stupor. He is much abstracted by his rambles that he does not realise the rigid backrest of his seat.

"Why am I still surprised?" Kei laughs dryly with his two quaking shoulders. "That's what we're here for, right? To wait for death to come knocking on our doorsteps. If not now - tomorrow, or the next." 

"What matters is he's fine." Tadashi solaces the sniffing boy. The papers are crinkled, but they are straighter now in his easing grasp. "He has us. And we have him."

Kei gazes at Tadashi with lesser malice. He's vulnerable, so, _so_ vulnerable. He clings on to the belief in Tadashi's eyes as if it were his lifeline. Tadashi only prays he has mustered sufficient credence to make himself dependable to the other.

"And then what?" The shaky voice breaks. Tadashi notes each bead of tears that leave a bruising track on Kei's cheeks. "What if I don't get to see him tomorrow? What if I don't get to see any of you tomorrow?" 

"I don't know." Tadashi answers honestly. He opens his arms as an invitation, fast to catch the thump of Kei's head. The boy is spent from sobbing. Tadashi takes it upon himself to shush the other's hiccups. With caring hands, he smoothens his dishevelled locks, cradling him from the scrutiny of the idle passersby. The halls are near-desolate but they are heedful. Tadashi knows he has to value what is left of their privacy.

"No one really knows." He adds more quaintly.

Because Tadashi does not know. Maybe Shouyou would have a better response to it. Tobio even. Terushima perhaps. But Tadashi is just as lost as Kei is. There is still envy in him that he cannot extinguish. There is still enmity that he cannot rid himself of. All Tadashi knows is that things are the way they are. And there is not much that can be done about it.

So they sit out the rest of the ticking minutes. The air is duller than before. Lights flicker and shoes scour the remnants of life in the hospital. Even the purr of cars and astir crowds reverberate tacitly. At last, the sleepless outside is muted, distant to the weary world Tadashi calls his home. 

Kei falls slack on his shoulders. Tadashi insists on soothing him regardless. Little by little, he feels his meek body sag and nuzzle close beneath his chin. Finally, Kei is sound asleep. 

The clock signals its 11th hour.

"Rough night?"

Koutarou-san arrives a minute after.

"Tobio's fine." Tadashi glances at the mess of papers in Kei's fist. With gentle hands, he pries it open and pockets the dotted pinks and yellows. He takes a mental note to retrieve the others from the trash bin as well. Or whatever is left of them to salvage.

Koutarou-san wipes the sweat in his palms and pats on his thighs. The chair on Tadashi's left whines as he sits his heavy weight on it. 

"That's good." The older says. "Can't have anyone missing movie Sunday, right?"

One glimpse at him has Tadashi noticing the shortage of breath. Perhaps he'd run a marathon -though his sleek ostentatious car would say otherwise. A strenuous match then? Possible, some volleyball practices may be taxing than most. Or Koutarou-san might have simply felt the need to race ahead time. He has always been the sort of person to do that. And though his records are never punctual, he never misses anything. 

The driven commitment peeves Tadashi that he can't help but ask, "How do you do it? How do you bear with this?" _How are you so positive?_

"I don't." The frank reply fazes him.

Tadashi blinks. Kei stirs at the shift of his movement. "What do you mean?"

Koutarou-san bares him a funny smile. "You don't really think this big man runs on limitless energy, do you?" 

"No...I, _well_ , I never thought that would be your answer." Quite honestly, Tadashi thought it didn't suit him. 

"I'm good at faking it." Koutarou-san shrugs humorously. But his tone is sober. "Fake it 'till you make it, right?"

Tadashi flatly chortles. "If all of that was fake, then you had me profoundly convinced."

His tease earns him a poke to the rib. Koutarou-san titters at the sound of his yelp and proceeds to ruffle his hair. His touch is easily distinguishable from the others. Large and open, clement like the open seas under good weather. Where the rest are stirring, his is a touch that anchors him from the currents.

"I guess I just try to delude myself until I believe the delusions." 

"That doesn't sound..." Tadashi crinkles his face.

"Optimistic?" Koutarou elucidates for him. Clearing his throat he begins to unfold his legs. His crouch is less droopy, back fastened to the wall with impressionable posture. 

He fiddles with his calloused fingers still, clasping and unclasping as he speaks, "When we were kids Shouyou used to be a crybaby. Every time I carried him on my back, I would have snot all over me. I never whined about it because that's what older brothers were supposed to do. They're supposed to be there for them."

Tadashi hearkens to him with rapt attention.

"Truth is, sometimes I get tired too." Koutarou-san sighs his phrases. He scratches the back of his neck and slouches again. There is shyness in his admission. "And I think about not coming here. Sometimes, I feel like the more I stay with him, the more I feel like it's going to hurt me more. And that scares me."

"What makes you stay then?" Tadashi's question lulls, almost like a secret.

"One look." Koutarou-san says. "Just one look at that screeching, snot-filled brat and I come running back to this place. Because even when I know it's going the suck like hell, even when I know it's going to _kill_ me, I'll always choose to stay. I'll always choose him."

Tadashi refrains the envy stuck to his throat. He bobs his head, gulping the grim bile of his miserable, selfish thoughts. 

"I wish I had a brother like you." He confesses. And he feels shame colour him. Green. Tadashi is green with envy.

And yet, as if having read through him, there is no ill tinge in Koutarou-san's reply. 

"But you do." He says. Clear and selfless. "I'm the big bro around here. So count on me, yeah?"

The man pats his head with more warmth. It spreads, cooling the fumes in Tadashi's mind and blanketing him with the acceptance he never knew he yearned for. Bit by bit, Tadashi feels the envy dissipate from his system. 

* * *

Tobio wakes up a newer soul before the peak of dawn. The early morning provides him with only Tadashi's company.

Their exchange of greetings had been raspy, laden with shushing praises and calming pats on the heads. Tobio had made it very clear to not alert the others camping in the cramped couches. Cognisant enough to their peers' sleep-deprived conditions, Tadashi had agreed to comply. 

"Had fun without me?" Tobio's voice is gravelly. Worn and scratched.

From where Tadashi lounges, a handbreadth away, he could hear the throaty inhales.

"Lots." He answers, wry. A book is glued to his lap. _Romantic Strelitzias_ , Terushima's most recent recommendation.

Tobio's eyes glance down at the title and snorts. " _Heh_. Doesn't seem like it."

Tadashi peers at him questioningly. 

"Tear tracks." Tobio points his chin at Kei. Even in the dim, he notices the slightest of details.

"You gave him quite the scare." Tadashi toys with the edge of his novel. A dangerous inkling bubbles inside of him. And without meaning to, he lets himself ramble, "A-about the checklists...Kei, he - _uh_ , I don't how to say this. But... I saw him, _well_ , I caught him -"

"I know."

Not even a second in and the eerie silence returns. Tadashi quells the apprehensive tapping of his soles and stares Tobio straight in the eyes.

"You know." His shoulders slacken. The awry tension pulls at his muscles - _relaxing_ , as if dispelled. 

Tobio regards him with a stare so reminiscent of the exasperated ones he gives Shouyou. "We were practically raised here together. I've known the guy my whole life. You don't think I wouldn't catch on to his cynic ass?"

"I just..." Tadashi nibbles on his lip. Now he feels ridiculous. "I never thought he'd break them so easily."

Tobio follows his downcast gaze and lands a palm atop his. 

"I was there." He starts. "When his brother gave up. It happened the day before his birthday. Akiteru-san promised he'd take us to the lake and feed the ducks together. It was the first time I ever saw him cry. I gotta tell you, he was an ugly crier." He laughs at the last part, awfully amused. "Thing is, when you've dealt with death enough times, it's easy to do away with things you once believed in. Even the ones you treasure."

"That makes me wonder," Tadashi adjusts in his seat. He laces his fingers with the other, wrist against wrist, where he feels the pulse beat. "If all of this...whatever this is, is worth it."

"Beats me." The boy replies. "10 years is better than none, right? Made it to 17. What's the harm in hoping for another seven more years? If I don't make it then, I would still be glad for the 17 years I lived."

A smile creeps up on Tadashi's face. He rubs a thumb on his friend's hand, running over the branchlike veins. "What would you want to do? If you weren't here?"

Tobio takes time and contemplates. His blinks are lively when a memory flashes in his mind.

"When we were kids Akiteru-san used to read us a story. About this... _legend_. It said that if you trek a mountain and survive it long enough to reach its peak, you could be closer to space. I figured if I ever get there I might see some aliens."

"Aliens?" Tadashi clarifies with a giggle.

Tobio grins with him. He shrugs, languid. "Stuff Tooru used to talk about. I wanted to see for myself if they really exist."

"Just aliens?"

"Among other things," Tobio says. He returns the other's gesture and paints a line along Tadashi's throbbing wrist. "They said if you climb it well you could have the whole mountain to yourself. You could be King."

There is a sparkle in Tobio's eyes as he talks about it. The horizon. Its clouds. The mountains.

Like this, Tadashi can clearly see that there is faith in him.

"These days, I feel like climbing Mt. Fuji."

**Author's Note:**

> let's learn Tadashi's world together :>


End file.
